Tribal Erasure
by Traitor of All Traitors
Summary: As he awaits an opportunity to help others, a timeless soul receives the old wound of a mistake he had made with a tribe that exploited leaves with dangerous properties. Now, he must go and save a man from becoming a nightmare and punish the tribe that he tried to find. Based off the film version of "The Relic", only without the outcome. Read and review.
Creation began on 04-08-16

Creation ended on 04-13-16

The Relic

Tribal Erasure

A/N: Never read the novel that inspired the film, but I sympathized the guy that became a beast against his will. Let's change the outcome of the film with our recognizable Good Samaritan.

Observing through a blue orb how a trio of women that he had saved in at least one other universe had managed to save themselves from their kidnappers after months of torture and disgrace, Brother Correction pondered when he would find an opportunity to visit such an alternate universe and affect the people for the better. And then, another orb, a crimson one, appeared in front of him and showed him a different situation that could've required his attention. There was a man being given a soup made from strange leaves covered with a fungus that, over time (nearly six weeks, give or take), turned him into a large animal that was associated with the tribe he was studying. Everything else he saw as a consequence was terrible, for both the man that was turned…and his victims.

"Accursed Kothoga tribe," he uttered; he had history with this tribe long ago, and now knew that letting that tribe keep its flora was a great mistake in his list of mistakes that needed to be corrected. "This time, I will erase their history from the Earth."

-x-

As John Whitney cried out in the darkness aboard the ship, a man stepped out of the shadows.

"Why do you need those leaves, Mr. Whitney?" He asked him.

"What?" John gasped, seeing the dark man under the light. "Who are you?"

"I am myth. I am history. I am truth. I am your brother."

"You're black, I can understand that."

"Many that see me say that in one way or another. Here." The man held out a small number of the same leaves that John now needed. "But you don't need these. They're part of the reason I'm here."

"What do you mean?" John asked him.

"The Kothoga tribe that gave you the soup made from these leaves. I got history with their ancestors, and I need to correct a mistake I made with them. These leaves, because of the fungus growth over them, turns whoever or whatever consumes them into chimeric aberrations, exaggerations of what they used to be. The leaves become the only thing they need to survive, otherwise they die from starvation without the hormones the fungi provide. I'm going to deal with the tribe for good, but I need to help you first so that you don't turn into an aberration yourself because of them. Will you let me help you?"

John held the leaves in his leaves under the light. He felt the hunger he now had for the leaves burning inside him, but he knew that he would turn into what the Kothoga tribe worshipped for generations, and he didn't want that. He gave the leaves back.

"Please," he begged him. "Help me."

"Come this way," the man told him, holding out his left hand to him. "We're going to pay the tribe a finality visit…and they will pay for their sins."

-x-

On a vast, meadow-like open field, a rip in the air above it opened up, and dozens of men and women, dressed in the way of people that lived off the jungles of Earth, fell onto the land. As they got up onto their feet, the dark man that brought them here floated in the air, looking down at them with subtle contempt. They recalled a story about him, a former child of flesh that was tasked by the gods to watch over two others that refused to let go of life, even though their fates had been long overdue, and how he was bestowed strength through the power of belief and hope.

"Look to your elders," he told them, and they understood what he meant, even if he spoke in a completely different tongue. "They and those that use the leaves to worship the beast you believe was bestowed upon you by the infernal masters of the underworld have gotten away with their discord long enough. Your presence in your original home has been erased from all forms of history to ensure that you will not be remembered. So until the day you die, this world I have found for you is your new residence. It has all of the things you need to survive. There are caves and large trees for shelter, fruits, vegetables, small animals and wild game for food, and herbs for medicinal remedies. Nothing big enough to harm you…and nobody for you to harm…except for each other if you chose to. My mistake with your tribe was allowing you to keep your plants infested with the special fungi growth. I will not make the same mistake again. All trace of those plants will be eradicated from existence, and knowledge of their horrid properties will be purged from memory, never to be exploited ever again. May you know the age of redemption when you see it."

And with that, along with a clearer conscience, Brother Correction left through the rip in the sky. His intention was never to return to this place he selected for the tribe, wanting to put this behind him for an eternity. He had purged the fungi growth hormones from John Whitney's body, preventing him from turning into a monstrous exaggeration of himself, and sent him back to his world with the acceptance that there were some parts of history that were better left undiscovered. He had also been promised that he wouldn't tell anyone about what he saw.

-x-

"…So that trip you made to South America didn't yield anything promising?" The wheelchair-bound Dr. Frock asked John.

"Nothing," he answered him, though the one thing he had salvaged from his trip that wouldn't do anyone any harm was the Kothoga statue, which he had presented to Dr. Frock. "With the sole exception of this relic, there was nothing about the Kothoga tribe that could be found. It must've been nothing but a myth."

"It's never too late to switch careers and look into evolutionary biology, Dr. Whitney," went Dr. Green to him as she walked past the two into her lab.

"I'll stick with anthropology, thank you very much."

"Still, this statue should help to impress everyone at the exhibition in two days," Dr. Frock expressed, impressed by the statue. "Perhaps the next place you visit will yield more promising results."

"Maybe," John replied, grateful for his life by Brother Correction. "Maybe the next place will be more…welcoming than South America was."

-x-

Returning to his wooden throne, Brother Correction sighed in mental exhaustion over fixing his ancient mistake with the Kothoga tribe. With their existence now nothing more than a mere story and the plants infested with animal hormones in the form of fungi erased from existence, nothing and no one could be turned into aberrations by anyone that knew about the plants' properties.

"How many more will there be until they realize that any mistakes I've made will be fixed to ensure they can never happen again?" He wondered aloud.

Willing the previous sphere he observed to return to him, he returned his attention to the dimension where the three women he had saved in another dimension were finally getting justice against the men that hurt them. And as he watched, he waited for an opportunity to offer his assistance to them.

The End

A/N: I'm glad I wrote this and finished it. Please, read and review.


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